I’m standing on the deck nursing a 20-ounce mug of tea, noticing the clouds overhead.
They’re fat and fluffy. Storybook clouds gently floating northeast against a deep blue sky.
Jerry-Dog clouds.
I was in kindergarten when Jerry-Dog died. He wandered into my parents’ lives when they were first married and wandered out across the rainbow bridge years later as an old man.
His loss was my first experience with mortality. But I was only five, at an age when those things don’t really register. As far as I was concerned, he was having a high old time romping around with Jesus up there in the clouds.
Something my Catholic school friends took great exception to.
But I took it as literal truth because really—what other explanation could there be?
Looking for Jerry-Dog
So I spent quite a bit of time noticing clouds, looking for signs of a fuzzy white dog.
Mama encouraged these searches. Maybe it was to divert my attention from his absence. Or maybe it was a game she enjoyed, too.
We’d see him quite often.
Running, stretched out.
Lying curled up.
His shaggy head with his ears flying off to the side.
A Lifetime of Noticing
As I write this, I’m struck by the notion that this may be where my noticing practice first began.
Because I never stopped looking for Jerry-Dog.
Over the years, others joined him in the clouds. Pets. Grandparents. Random mythological signs and symbols. Dragons. Faces. Creatures that existed for thirty seconds before the wind pulled them apart.
Some of my best memories are lying in the grass with my children playing the same game.
And somewhere along the way, it expanded beyond clouds.
Sidewalk cracks. Bathroom tiles. Shadows on the wall. Peeling paint. Tree bark. Reflections in puddles. The accidental marks and odd little arrangements that are everywhere once you start paying attention.
Noticing.
Maybe that’s all a creative practice really is at its most basic.
Paying enough attention to see something that wasn’t there a moment ago.
Or maybe it was there all along and you finally got quiet enough to notice it.
I don’t look for Jerry-Dog every time I look at the clouds anymore.
But every now and then, on a day with a deep blue sky and big fat clouds drifting overhead, there he is.
Still running.
Still shaggy.
Still reminding me to look.
Noticing Clouds: This Week’s Creative Prompt:
Go outside and look up.
That’s it.
Give yourself five minutes to watch the clouds without photographing them, naming the weather, checking your phone, or accomplishing one damn thing.
What do you see?
A dog? A dragon? A face? A shape that turns into something else before you’ve quite figured it out?
Follow it.
Then look down.
Try the sidewalk. The bark of a tree. A crack in the pavement. Shadows. Reflections. The pattern in your kitchen counter.
See what happens when you stop looking at things and start looking for things.
You might not find Jerry-Dog.
But you might notice something you’ve been walking past for years.
Thanks for being here and noticing the world with me. And if you happen to spot your own Jerry-Dog—or dragon, face, elephant, or whatever else is lurking in the clouds—I’d love to hear about it in the comments.
Back next week–
